THE BISHOP'S ISLAND
Situation : "They talk a dale about bishops in our own times, plaze your honor, in regard o' reform, an' things that way ; but I heard a story of a bishop that was then long ago, an' I declare if he didn't flog all the bishops in Europe: it's a dhroll thing. Do you see that island out oppozite us in the wather ?" The speaker pointed with his stick to an island standing about fifty yards from one of those stu¬pendous cliffs which look out upon the Atlantic from the western coast of Ireland. It was a singular piece of land, rising from the waters almost to the height of the precipice on whose brink we stood,— that is to say, about three hundred feet. From its contiguity to the cliff, and the similarity of its structure, it might be conjectured that it had at one time formed part of the shore, and was separated from it by the raging of that immense ocean whose overgrown billows meet here their first impediment. The summit of this singular islet was a small tabular plot of ground, on which a few sheep were grazing, though by what means any animal without wings could reach that height seemed enigmatical. Be¬tween this lonely rock and the mainland a multitude of sea-fowl mingled their discordant screams with the roar of the troubled waters that heaved and foamed against the base of the cliff. Transition : "Do you see that island out frontin' us ?" repeated my companion. "I do." "Well, an' do you see now a darony stone, with the sea-gull sittin' above upon it, in among the sheep ? " With some difficulty I was able to perceive the stone. "That stone was onst a statute of a bishop that owned the island, although there's little marks of a stone statute about it now. That's the bishop I'm tellin' you I heard talks of in regard of his doin's, an' I'll tell you the story if you like it." Perceiving me attentive and curious, he sat at his ease upon the mossy border of the precipice, and commenced his narrative : Retrospective Narrative: There was a bishop long ago, an' he had a great house upon that island. 'Tis the way he used to go to and fro betune it and the land was be manes of a dhrawbridge, that he could pull ashore afther him either on one side or the other, as he plazed. "Well, what do you think of this lad of a bishop ? He used to keep open house on the island, invitin' all the quality about the country to his house, an' thratin"em like a prince ; only I'll tell you of a thrick he had, for all the good opinion the people had of him about the place, that wasn't over-seemly for a bishop. "He'd invite a parcel o' jettlemen an' ladies of a time that he'd know they had plenties o' money, an' he'd give 'em the best of enthertainment for a couple o' days. Well an' good. Afther that, maybe, he'd get up of a mornin' before sunrise, an' he'd ashore with himself, an' he'd dhraw the dhrawbridge after him, an' he'd lave all the company there upon the island without a bit of vittals, maybe for as good or betther than a week or a fortnight, an' they havin' no manes o' comin' ashore. Maintime, himself would go about the counthry divartin'. Well, when he'd think the company had time to be starved, back he'd go to the cliff, an' lay out the dhrawbridge again, an' step across to the island to see what was the matther *here ; an', findin"em all dead with the hunger, he'd take all their cash an' goods, an' fling the bodies out over the cliff into the say, an' nobody but himself knowin' anythin' about it. "Well, aisy until I tell you how this janius of a bishop was pinned in the latther end. ' Tis un¬known how long he was goin' on with these capers, until of a time one o' them ould chieftains an' his wife, a great haro of a lady, that lived near the vil¬lage o' New Auburn over, begun talkin' about the business of a day, an' they afther break'ast. " Erra, isn't it dhroll,' says the lady, that any company that goes to the bishop at all, somehow or another we never any more hear of 'em afther ?' " " Tis, eroo,' says the ould chieftain. " I declare to my heart,' says she, I'd like to make it out.' "Hardly the word was out of her mouth, when who should walk in the doore to 'em only the lad himself, an' he comin' to ax 'em to his great house ! "I'd be happy to accept your lordship's offer,' says the ould chieftain, 'only I've a mort o' money in the house, an' I'd be in dhread to lave it afther me.' "'Eh, can't you get a big chesht an' bring it with you, man ?' says the rogue of a bishop (knowin' well what he was about). "'Do eroo,' says the wife ; 'be said by his lord¬ship,' says she ; an sure 'twill be safer there than here itself,' says she. "Well, it was so settled, sir, an' the lady, un¬knbwnst to her husband, ordhered a couple more baskets, an' filled one with arms an' the other with provisions, roast an' boiled, eatables an' drinkables, an' away with 'em to the island. When the bishop seen the three cheshts, you'd think his heart would jump into his mouth, although he never pretended anything, only smiled an' welcomed 'em to the place. In they went, an' found a great company inside before' them, ladies and jettlemen, an' they as pleasant as could be, sportin' and talkin.' Well, afther two days' faistin', the ould chieftain got up of h mornin,' an' walkin' out to the hall doore, what should he see only the dhrawbridge dhrawn ashore upon the cliff, and not a sight o' the bishop to be seen high or low, nor one belongin' to the house, an' not a sign o' break'ast ? Well, the company were bothered, an' the ould chieftain began scoldin' his wife for biddin' him to be said by the bishop. She said nothin', only let 'em talk away, an' they all wondherin' what made her look so calm. Afther lettin"em fast for a couple o' days, she carried the ould chieftain with her into the room where they laid the cheshts, an' then she opened 'em an' showed him the arms and provisions, an' every ha'porth. "Well, they all gev it up to her that they owed her their lives, an' they kitchened with what was in the chesht, until they seen the ould poet of a bishop settlin' his dhrawbridge, cock-sure they were all dead. In he came quite aisy, just like a cat that would be stalin' into an ould garret an' spyin' about for the mice. Well, if he did, my lady had 'em all ranged with their swords an' bagnits in the hall, an' when he put his nose inside the doore they fell upon himself an' his men, an' threated 'em just in the same way he meant to threat themselves, by castin"em out over the cliff into the main ocean. Conclusion. "I think, sir," concluded my informant, with a sagacious nod, "that was a rale poet of a bishop." - GERALD GRIFFIN